Nervous Planning
by 8ron
Summary: How would Cullen and the Inquisitor act after their first kiss on the ramparts? Well, I like to think they'd be nervous dorks as per usual, so here you go. NSFW.
1. Chapter 1

With as much self-control as he could muster, Cullen pulled his lips away from Gwen's. Though he lingered near her, forehead almost touching her own, hands holding her gently against by the waist.

Maker, but she was beautiful. Freckled cheeks stained a dark red, lips now wet and still partly open. He wanted to kiss her again. Needed to. But there was something about her that made his stomach flip with nerves, and Cullen frequently found himself stammering to the Herald like a fool boy rather than wooing her senseless, as was his intention.

"I'm sorry," he said, "that was… um… really nice."

"_That _was what I wanted." She purred in a confident tone that turned his legs to jelly. Cullen felt his mouth tugging into a smirk, and leaned forward once more with newly found confidence.

"Oh. Good."

He kissed her again. The first had been hard and surprising and full of a hunger that had left her gasping against his mouth. Partly because Jim's interruption had infuriated him, mainly because he'd been desperate to kiss her for months. Now Cullen took his time, savouring the softness of her lips. They were plumper than his, completely made for kissing. Gwen let out a little moan and he took the opportunity to push his tongue into her mouth, gently poking and tasting. Hands tightened around her and he gave in completely to temptation, pressing his body against her own; practically leaning her over the rampart. Though she didn't seem to mind, and trusted Cullen to hold her whilst her eager hands silently urged him on, running up his chest, sinking into his hair, pulling him down further to her height so she gained better reach.

He was quickly getting lost in her, and the thought that they weren't exactly well hidden seeped from his mind. He could only think of Gwen. After months of childish daydreaming, nights spent achingly awake imagining her, worrying constantly whenever she was away. Finally, she was in his arms, willing and delicious and –

Were those footsteps?

It was impossible for Gwen to pull away from him, so she turned her head to one side with a little groan. Cullen followed her line of sight. Two soldiers were doing their rounds and marching down the stairs, looking unbelievably uncomfortable and staring at the sky as if another rift had broken loose.

Gwen sighed, her hands left his hair and trailed down to his chest. Cullen was pleased to see he had successfully dishevelled her; hair was mussed, lips were slightly swollen, and what had been a soft lining of red on her cheeks had turned into a dark smear of crimson that spread right down to her neck and disappeared under her collar.

She looked perfect.

"We should probably –" She began to murmur.

"Right. Of course." He backed off straight away, and just like that his confidence vanished. The guards passed them without a word – though Cullen was sure gossip would fly – and left them in silence. But it wasn't like before, and now he wasn't sure if he could kiss her again, or what he should even say. His first instinct was to thank her, but when it came to women Cullen had learnt to completely _ignore _his first instinct. They never led him in the right direction.

"So I – er.." He rubbed the back of his neck whilst Gwen fidgeted with her fingers. "We probably couldn't have picked a more obvious spot to do… that."

It was meant to be a joke, but neither of them laughed, and he made a mental note to ignore his second instinct in the future.

"I'm glad we did though," She said, better at this than him, but also sometimes a little awkward herself. "I mean, it was –"

"No! No. Me too. Glad, I mean. I'm very glad we did – I um, I should probably get back to work."

_Maker, no!_ Why had he said that?! Anything but that! Which instinct was he meant to trust with these matters? Because so far Cullen felt like he was making what had been a perfect moment an awkward puddle of mess.

"Right. Of course. Me too." Gwen agreed with a little bob of her head, flashing him that crooked smile before she made to leave.

This was it, his last chance.

"Gwen," Cullen reached out and caught her by the hand, turning her back, "maybe we could see each other later? This evening, perhaps?"

Her smile grew, and to his great relief she was stepping closer, once again in kissing distance. "I'd like that. Its wicked grace night at the tavern. You've not joined us for a game, yet."

"Oh. Well, I will, if that is what you wish. But I was thinking, maybe, it could – um, just be the two of us?"

"Oh! Of course! I mean – yes, yes that sounds lovely." They both laughed nervously. He started rubbing his neck again.

Cullen had imagined conversations with Gwen becoming a whole lot easier once he knew she felt the same way about him as he did for her. But if anything he was even more uncertain. Before he'd had everything to gain. Now he had something to lose. The idea of messing up and getting his heart broken was too much to bear, and Cullen was determined to avoid it at all costs. He just had to be attentive, charming, the kind of person she wanted to be with. Surely if he could command a whole army with ease, he could successfully woo a woman already interested in him?

"Cullen?"

He realised then that her lips were moving, that she had been talking this entire time and he hadn't heard a single word. Panic tickled down his spine, and his mouth opened like a fish whilst she waited patiently for an answer.

"Um. Yes?" He said, guessing.

"Great. So you'll come to my quarters tonight?"

"I will? I – wait – I'm sorry. I didn't quite hear you. What were you saying?" He had to ask. As Cullen couldn't even begin to imagine what he'd just agreed on. Or maybe he could, and that was the problem. Gwen was a fair bit younger than him, and as far as he knew, an innocent; he assumed their ideas on bedroom activities differed greatly.

Her brow creased into a little frown, clearly annoyed at going unheard. It was something she was not use to after all. When you were The Herald of Andraste people tended to pay attention.

"I _said, _I thought we could eat together. I'll ask the cooks to take your dinner to my room instead of yours. Unless you'd rather do something else?"

"No! That sounds – the pleasure would be all mine, Gwen." He was still holding her hand, and now he raised it to lay a whisper soft kiss against her knuckles. Cullen watched out for her reaction intently, and seeing Gwen catch her breath encouraged him to go further. He pressed his lips to her palm, a much more intimate gesture that left him hungry for more. "I'll see you tonight." He murmured, closing her fingers around the kiss before letting go.

Cullen turned and began to head back to his office, quickly before he lost his nerves and did something stupid again. He risked a quick glance over his shoulder before opening the door, and was happy to see Gwen still stood there, looking down and pressing her palm to her lips.

He smirked, maybe things would be easier now that he knew how she felt.


	2. Chapter 2

WillowflowerWaterlily chapter 1 . Jan 14: Please write a story about their date. :)

Ask and you shall receive! If not months and months later. So here you go! A sappy, awkward, fluffy, first date.

* * *

Gwen fiddled with her hair and tried to ignore the churning in her stomach. It was ironic that she'd suggested they eat together; because now the moment had finally arrived, and she didn't feel like eating at all. She was a bundle of nerves, pacing the room, glancing every five seconds to the slowly dipping sun, groaning. She felt so nervous that part of her wanted to call the whole thing off, but only a small, very cowardly part. A more pressing issue were her hands, which had turned persistently clammy as soon as she'd started getting ready. What if he wanted to hold them? He'd held her hand on the ramparts. What if he held her hand tonight and was disgusted by her sweaty palms?

Calm. Relax. She was thinking too much into this, and instead concentrated on making her breathing less raged, while she stared at the table the kitchen girl was still setting. After the young woman's suggestion, they'd dragged the table onto the Western balcony, where Cullen and herself would be free from wandering eyes, yet able to enjoy the fresh air.

Gwen licked her lips and recalled that afternoon. After _the_ kiss, the pair had agreed to eat at seven. By then the crowd that gathered in the main hall would have finished their meals, and Cullen need not walk past all their companions to get to her room. She wondered faintly if she should be insulted that he didn't want to be seen. Though she supposed he would have gone through the embarrassment had she asked him. The man was merely trying to keep her reputation intact. A gentleman. He was a gentlemen. Not like the elven boys she'd flirted with back in the clan. Giggling as they showed off with a bow and stealing clumsy kisses in the dead of night under a canopy of trees.

That was another thing. Up until the breach, humans had been a distant fascination to Gwen. An enigma. Tall, dangerous strangers that she was forbidden to meet. Cullen was so new and so... large. She found it oddly intimidating and alluring at the same time.

He was also a few years her senior. No doubt he had heaps of experience while she had none. He probably wasn't nervous at all. What if she did something wrong? Or ruined the moment with her eternal rambling? Cullen had surely courted a dozen fine ladies while she'd been running around in petticoats, gushing over the young hunters and scrapping her knees in the dirt.

"What does he even see in me?" She muttered, feeling the prowling of a headache just behind her eyes.

"Excuse me, m'lady?" She'd forgotten the kitchen girl was there, who looked up from the table nervously. She immediately felt her face heat up.

"Oh no! I was just... talking to myself."

"I see. My apologise, ma'am."

"No, you don't have to say sorry! I didn't... hmm..." she groaned, rubbing her neck. "Renn, do I... I mean... how do I look?"

The woman's eyes widened, horrified that The Herald of Andraste would ask her such a thing. Gwen supposed it was a silly question. Renn couldn't exactly say no, though she hoped she'd be honest. It wasn't like she'd punish her for saying she resembled lumpy porridge. Though she might burst into tears, which really wouldn't be fun at all.

"B-Beautiful! As always, your worship."

"Right." Just like she'd thought. Gwen slouched, staring at the silver cutlery twinkling under the setting sun. The obligatory compliment did little to calm her nerves, and Renn could clearly see that, as she gained a bit of bravado after a few moments contemplation.

"I dare say the Commander will think the same," she added, smiling kindly.

Gwen's cheeks turned a deeper shade of red, if that was possible. Renn probably had more experience than her in such things as well. It was as if they all knew a dirty secret she was completely oblivious too. Some trick that made this entire thing easy and not uncomfortable in the slightest. She felt like an idiot around them all, and stumbled for excuses.

"I wasn't asking because of that. I mean, I did... do you think... do you think he'll notice?" She indicated to her outfit. After _the_ kiss, Gwen had practically raced to the Library. There she'd consulted Dorian and Cassandra on what they thought she should wear. She'd suspected Dorian would pick her something, he was always happy to answer her questions. However, surprisingly, Cassandra had seemed a lot more interested - and she'd only asked the seeker as well due to the fact she'd been stood next to Dorian at the time - while Dorian had merely rolled his eyes, insisting Cullen wouldn't care if she wore a potato sack to their meal, and declaring he really had no interest in woman's fashion in the slightest and _why_ hadn't she asked Vivienne?

Still, despite his teasing, he had joined in helping, albeit reluctantly. Cassandra had forced Gwen into a number of flimsy dresses, whilst Dorian read on her couch and huffed at the louder choices with a side-ways glance. When she wasn't dressing herself, the seeker apparently had a penchants for large bows and girly frills, and Dorian had been forced to talk her down until they finally agreed on a simple cotton dress. It was the kind of outfit one would find on a farm girl, not The Herald of Andraste. But Gwen loved it more for its simplicity, and stroked the fabric down as Renn inspected her appearance on the balcony.

"Oh no. He won't notice at all... ma'am." She blurted without hesitation. Gwen must have looked heartbroken over the answer, as she stammered to explain under the fear her courage would lead to trouble. "Not that he won't think you look nice! Men just don't notice these things. Trust me. It will be fine though, why don't you sit down, ma'am? Have a glass of wine to calm the nerves. Thats what I did before meeting me' husband at the festival ball. Jim? He's one of the Commander's footmen. My Ma said he'd never amount to anything, yet here we are! He even brings your Commander his tea sometimes." She continued to regale Gwen with stories centering her husband, and she took her advice and sat down to gulp down some alcohol. In truth she was quite happy for the rambling, it was a helpful distraction.

But alas, Renn was silenced before she'd gotten into full swing, by a gentle rap on the door, and she froze mid-sentence, wide eyed.

Gwen's reaction was slightly more dramatic, leaping to her feet with a startled gasp, consequently spilling her wine over the table cloth.

"Oh! Creators, I'm sorry!" She frantically patted the cloth with her handkerchief, getting it on her hands, rubbing the stain in, panicking now.

Renn rescued her. "Never mind that! I'll sort it. Go answer the door. I mean -! Would you like me to clean this up, your Worship?"

"Yes! Thank you. The door. I can get the door. I can do that."

Giving herself a mental reminder to provide Renn with a pay rise, she hurried across the room, down the stairs, and then paused. Despite the ticking clock, nerves refused to let her arm move. It was ridiculous really. She'd shown less fear facing demons. And Cullen just had to know she was just stood at the other side of the door, he would have heard her wandering down the stairs.

"Creators, save me." She whispered, before finally getting a grip and swinging the door open just that little too fast. It took Cullen by surprise, and the man blinked down at her, fist already raised to knock again.

They locked eye contact, and each held their breath for an awkwardly, wonderful moment.

"You wore your armour." Gwen broke the silence, sounding disappointed.

"Err, yes? I-I always wear my armour."

"Right. Of course. Never mind, forget I said anything. Come in." She licked her dry lips and Cullen's eyes flicked down to follow the movement, gulping.

Maker, but he was nervous. Though he realised he was a handsome man by most of society's standards, Lavellan was a whole different kettle of fish, and he couldn't quite believe his luck. He still wasn't sure why she'd let him kiss her, and was unable to comprehend that she could be interested in a man like him.

Trying not to dwell on it, he followed her up the stairs, distracted by the way her dress swayed with the movement. A dress. That was new. She never wore dresses, and he swelled with pride seeing that she'd made an extra effort. Until that was washed over by guilt. Of course! That was why she'd mentioned his armour. He'd made no move at all to look nice for the evening. Apart from checking his hair about half a million times, and asking Jim to make sure the back was straight in one particular fit of desperation.

Too late now. Maybe if he just didn't mention her dress? Then he wouldn't embarrass himself. That seemed like the best option.

Gwen led him onto the balcony, where one of her maids stood folding a table cloth. For a few moments she beamed at them both, as if knowing something he didn't, before jumping into action and leaving them with a murmured 'm'lady, Sir.'

The pair remained silent, until the entrance clicked behind the servant, and Cullen realised that they hadn't said a word to each other since she'd let him in.

"It's a - nice evening." Good job, Cullen. He winced, mentally kicking himself.

"Oh. Yes. Lovely um... sunset." Lavellan moved to sit down, and he immediately pulled her chair out for her, as was the gentlemanly thing to do. Only she hadn't been expecting it, and was already half way to her destination when he moved to help. What occurred therefore was a lot of awkward fumbling, and they both flushed as she barely made it onto her seat at all, thanking him anyway.

_Maker's breath_. He took the seat opposite her and cleared his throat. Dinner was simple, as always. Bread with cheese, accompanied by a few olives, grapes, slices of ham, and the same wine they served in the barracks.

"I don't know why," he began, "but I thought you ate different meals to us."

Gwen gave him an odd look, he hadn't meant it to sound insulting. He was more amused than anything. Of course she wouldn't have any lavish meals. He should have known better.

"I usually eat with Dorian and Sera in the main hall. They argue the entire time otherwise. Why would I get something different?"

"Well, you could if you wanted to."

She shrugged and took a gulp of wine. That seemed like an excellent idea, and Cullen downed half his glass in an attempt to calm down.

"I suppose I do get a lot of sweets."

"Sweets?"

"Hmm mm. We never had chocolate, or cake, in the clan. It was all nuts and berries." She scrunched her nose, and the pair began to forget their nerves as conversation became more natural. "I didn't realise how nice sugary things are. Someone kept sneaking toffees into my saddle bags back in Haven, I think that's when I developed a sweet tooth."

He flushed. "That ah, that was me. I thought you might like them. Sorry."

He immediately regretted admitting to it, yet Gwen's face only lit up with amusement, grin widening until he could see the dimples nestled amongst her freckles; and Cullen found himself ecstatic that he'd managed to make her smile like that. "Was it really?! Wait till I tell Iron Bull. He loved them as well. We were always bickering over who got the last one."

"Ah, you don't have to tell him, do you?"

That earn't him a giggle, and she flashed him a playful little smirk before agreeing. After that, the pair began to eat with easy smiles and flowing conversation. Gwen explained what it was like living with the Dalish. Cullen tried to keep his blushing cheeks at bay as she laughed over his mishaps training with the recruits. She admitted there was no table cloth because she'd spilt wine just before he'd arrived. He confessed to walking the long way around the stables to get to her room in an attempt to calm his nerves. Gwen had seemed surprised at that, and relaxed even more after discovering he too had been nervous.

The sun disappeared behind the mountains, yet they stayed on the balcony, despite their empty plates and the growing cold. Gwen let her wine glass linger near her lips, and Cullen found himself entranced by the way they curved slightly as she talked, gut clenching when her tongue flicked out to wet her mouth.

He wanted to kiss her again. Needed to.

The table suddenly seemed like it was very much in the way, and he clenched his fist by his thigh, wondering how he could somehow end up at her lips without making a fool of himself.

"Shall we go sit inside?" Gwen murmured, refocusing his attention and answering all his prayers at the same time. "It's getting cold. And only one of us is wearing furry pauldrons."

"Maker. Of course! Would you like to borrow it?" He had already started shrugging out of his cloak as they rose to their feet. Gwen, in a fit of bravery, pressed her hand onto his cheek in order to stop the man. He froze in place, staring down at her, turned to stone by her mere touch.

"No, you don't have to do that. I just want to sit on the couch."

She began to laugh, but was silence immediately by Cullen's intense gaze. He let himself look at her, really look at her, something he'd previously only done in secret glances across the war table. "Of course." Her hand was still on his cheek, tentatively pressed against his stubble, and he covered it with his own before she could pull it away; beginning to slide her palm across his lips.

Creators no, her sweaty hands. Gwen's worst fear was becoming a reality, and she struggled to gauge how she felt about it. Between the tingling stirring beneath her small clothes and the hot embarrassment at her cheeks, it was hard to figure out if she wanted Cullen to continue, or snatch her hand away and apologise. Instead all she managed was a little 'oh,' and he smirked in response. Either not noticing her clammy state or simply not caring.

It built on her confidence, and as Cullen pressed a second kiss to her palm she stepped closer. Close enough that she had to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact, which they'd held for entirely too long.

"Kiss me," she said. Whispering it, desperate.

"I already am," Cullen teased against her hand, one eyebrow twitching with his mirth. But he knew what she meant, and his free arm began to slide around her waist, pulling her closer, luring her in. Gwen wanted to break eye contact but found she couldn't, Cullen looked at her so intensely it was impossible, challenging to even blink, difficult to breath.

"Cullen..."

His lips pressed against hers before she could finish, and Gwen let out a startled gasp like she had that afternoon on the ramparts. She'd braced for impact. In her experience all men were greedy. Only his kiss wasn't hard, it wasn't rushed. Cullen's lips didn't demand, they didn't take. Not like the elven boys from before. Instead they brushed gently against her own, puckering and coaxing, luring her closer with his expert puckering, his tender assault. His tongue stroked across her bottom lip and she opened her mouth. Even then he didn't plunder. Instead his hands slowly slid up her waist. Higher, higher. Until they were stroking over her back and entangling in her hair.

Gwen felt a tingling build between her thigh, and she squeezed them together, wishing that he _would _plunder. Wanting him to kiss her hard and without mercy. But they had all the time – and privacy – in the world, and The Commander was determined to make every second count. Her skin felt hot, her heart was thundering. With excitement, anticipation to take the kiss further. She wasn't sure what that entailed, she only knew that she wanted it, needed it; and Cullen was the only man who could give it to her.

She bet whatever it was he wouldn't fumble. Cullen wouldn't struggle to bring her to some mysterious point she was desperate to reach. His wicked hands and clever lips knew exactly what they were doing, and Gwen found herself at mercy to his touches. Wanting more, yet feeling like he could set her alight at any moment.

She whimpered, his tongue stroked into her mouth. Tasting, testing. Gwen prodded her own against his. He tasted like the wine from earlier, and her head tilted to gain better access to the sweet flavour. She slid her feet closer still, leaning against his chest plate, frustrated that he was wearing steel and she couldn't feel him. She wanted him naked, preferably trapped between her thighs.

Knowing that was impossible – for now – she sunk her hands into the fur of his pauldrons instead, and pulled, pressing him to her, arching her spine to close every last gap of air between them. Cullen noticed, and deepened the kiss in response, suddenly not so gentle. She hadn't realised they were moving until she was pressed against the stone wall, stars and moon blocked out by the tall man holding her close and trapping her there. She didn't mind, she welcomed it, and groaned against his mouth until they tilted their heads for better purchase.

Cullen was losing himself. Every caress seemed deeper, stronger, and slowly broke away his self-control. Did Gwen even know what she did to him? The arching of her spine, the whimpering rumbles against his mouth, the shy rubbing of her tongue. Heat flooded him in waves like a relentless tide, searing his veins, filling his senses, electrifying his fingers. He drank her in, lulled her tongue into his own mouth and sucked, delighting at the low moan that earned him. He wanted to coax every little whimper, moan, and gasp from Gwen he could. He wanted to hear all her wicked noises, he wanted to be the reason she made them, and he wanted her. Maker, how he _wanted_ her.

His hands turned cheeky, abandoning her hair to run down her spine, thumbs circling her skin before pressing into the dip of her back. She shuddered in response, then gasped when he cupped her bottom, squeezing wickedly before he settled on her hips.

They broke apart for a few moments, only to rake in a few desperate breaths, and then it was Gwen reaching up, locking their lips once more and continuing the cycle all over again. He noticed the increasing demand in her touches, hungry for more. The hands in his hair had started to tug painfully tight, before they cupped his face and tugged him further down to her height, severe and desperate and thoroughly enjoyable.

His control floated away in pieces. The thought of scooping her up and carrying her to the bed would no longer leave him, and Cullen groaned low from the bottom of his throat, wishing there were no clothes between them, fingers fiddling with the buttons of her dress, though not undoing them.

Gwen bit his lip in response, and one plush thigh wrapped around his leg.

He froze.

What were they doing?

Cullen broke away with another gasp, gulping for air. She looked up at him through her sandy eyelashes, looking dazed and – he hoped – just a little disappointed.

"I should go," he said. Trying to regain his common sense. He gripped onto her waist and stepped back, struggling to steady his whirling head, licking his lips. Maker, they tasted like her.

"No..." Gwen murmured, closing the gap once more.

"I have to. Otherwise I'll… I… it wouldn't be appropriate." He cleared his throat, struggling, though Gwen must have agreed with him on some level, as she nodded her head even as she leaned up for another kiss.

Cullen obliged, of course, and kissed her back, arms clenching as he resisted the urge to pick her up. He suddenly had mad thoughts of sweeping the plates off the table, lifting her onto it, pressing against her. It was dark. No one would see them. The bed was much too far away.

Gwen pulled back, and he held her close, willpower almost gone. He dragged in a huge breath. "You leave tomorrow, don't you? To Orlais?"

She swayed; he steadied her as she stared at his lips, completely transfixed and successfully building his ego.

"I do? Y-Yes. I do. Tomorrow. Will you come say goodbye?"

"Of course." He pressed his lips to her temple, and even that flooded him with renewed heat. Maker's breath. He'd never wanted anyone so much, and was eternally grateful for the thick breeches he wore, which were thoroughly uncomfortable but at least hid his throbbing erection. He tried not to think about it, instead concentrating on the hazy lust he could see in Gwen's eyes, foggy and still watching him as if he were a fudge she'd like to eat.

"It will be early." She said. Warning him, providing an escape. "Really early. Cassandra wants us to leave before sunrise. I think shes just doing it to annoy Varric…"

"Before sunrise then. I'll be there." He said, and he meant it. Cullen was beginning to regain control of his motory senses. Lips twisting wickedly, he tweaked one of her curls, etching the way she giggled into his long term memory. "You have my word."

Relief softened her features, and Gwen blushed at his intent gaze, looking down at her feet. "Tomorrow then."

"Tomorrow." Cullen gave her hand a gentle squeeze then started to leave, arm stretching as their fingers stubbornly remained entwined, until he finally broke apart and took long strides to the door. Smiling from ear to ear.

Gwen waited until she heard the click of the door before twirling, laughing like a child and pressing her hands to her burning cheeks.

Tomorrow.

After a few minutes she bundled forward, suddenly desperate to find Renn, to tell her how it had gone. While in the safety of his tower, Cullen regaled poor Jim with the success of their evening.


	3. Chapter 3

Camp settled and work nearly finished, Cullen headed out to find Lavellan. Having her accompany him on excursion training was new for everyone, and if his Soldiers noticed the couples heavy glances and secret smiles during the day, they at least kept their gossiping out of earshot.

He - almost surprisingly - did not feel guilty about taking her away from the Inquisition for a day or two. She was constantly busy, always needed. They pushed her into danger every day, and though he knew he couldn't protect her entirely from it, he could at least provide a moment's reprieve – even if he did take his work with him along the way.

Unfortunately, like most of his romantic endeavours, the trip was not panning out how he'd hoped. The first blunder had occurred not three hours into the journey, while they led his men in a slow trail down the mountains. As the path evened onto flatter land, and the snow made way for common mud, one of the wagons just had to get caught in a ditch. Try as they might, his men had failed to push the damn thing back onto the road, and though Gwen had been nothing but pleasant and patient - sat on her horse and watching with a sympathetic smile - Cullen had become increasingly embarrassed. Not only was she the only woman he wished to impressed, but she was also the Inquisitor. The one in charge. He was meant to be proving himself as the commander of her military operation, not struggling to organise his men to push a damn wagon out of the mud.

In the end he'd had to dismount and help them himself, joining the pushing effort as someone else encouraged the horses to pull. The wagon and been forced out of the ditch with a squelch, and rolled away without much of a warning. Cullen and the others had fallen into the mud as a result, and then his mood really had gone from bad to worse, ignoring Gwen's trill laughter as he mounted his horse again, absolutely filthy from head to toe.

His men had been cautious not to push him after that, and the wagon drivers had gone exceptionally slow and careful over any turns and bump. Gwen however, had not been phased in the slightest, and kept their horses close as she continued to tease. Giggling at the mud in his uniform, licking her thumb to spit wash his cheek. She would at least wait for moments when the soilder's weren't looking, but it still flamed his mortification from earlier, and Cullen's face remained red underneath all the grime.

Worst still, they never managed to catch up with their lost time. The sun was already setting by the time they made camp, and he'd hope to be done with work and showing her the lake by then. Instead he'd been rushed around, trying to set drills and finish inspections in half the time it usually took, while Lavellan had no choice but to wait in their tent – bored and restless and probably wishing she'd never come in the first place. And all to give her a silly token.

He groaned under his breath. Never mind. So what if it was dark now? He had the entire night to make it up to her – and get revenge for the teasing.

"Gwen?" He peered into their tent, smiling when he found her there, lounging on the bedroll and looking thoroughly grumpy. If any other woman had pouted at him like that, he might have rolled his eyes and labelled them childish. Coming from her it only seemed endearing, and his grin turned hungry. "I'm sorry it took so long." He murmured, closing the flap and entering the threshold. The tent was a large canvas more than anything, as it also served as a meeting room for him and his officers; and not only obtained some dusty travel furniture, but was high enough for Cullen to stand upright.

He prowled forward and she stretched out like a cat, arms above her head, foot resting on his knees once he was close enough, stopping him.

"Why did you invite me along, again?" She purred, teasing. But he could tell the question was a real one. He'd let work get the better of him, and they hadn't even seen each other since stopping for the day.

"I have something to show you," he said. Watching her eyebrows shoot up.

"Is it work related?"

"No," Cullen laughed, but it was cut to a strangled sort of cough as her foot ventured further, nudging playfully at his thighs. "W-Would you join me for an evening stroll, my lady?" He asked, offering her his hand.

She paused before taking it, surprised. She hadn't actually thought he had something for her to see. Gwen had figured this was an excuse, and Cullen had really just wanted her company. After all, they got to spend very little time together. And usually that was time spent daydreaming in war meetings, mulling over dry politics while she tried to keep her eyes open.

Sometimes she wondered if that was a problem. Their relationship felt like it was on standby. Second to the threat of Corphyeous. She would spend months away from Skyhold, only to return and find her Commander was away with work as well. Of course, there were the nice moments. The times when they actually managed to share a meal together, or she pulled Cullen away from his desk long enough for a kiss. He'd even spent the night in her quarters a view times, though her innocence had refrained the man from doing anything other than kiss her senseless. Which really, she shouldn't complain about, because his lips were awfully clever at that whole kissing malark. But it would be nice if Cullen didn't treat her like a lady _all_ the time. She wasn't even sure if he wanted it any more. Maybe they didn't see each other enough for it to be worth it.

No. She frowned and tried to escape her thoughts, concentrating on the feel of Cullen's fingers wrapped around her own. He – at least – didn't seem to care about the rumours their public affection brought, and held her hand tightly as they crossed the camp and disappeared into the thicket of the trees.

"Where are we going?" She asked, growing more excited. There was something wondrously alluring about following Cullen into the dark of the woods.

"Wait. You'll see in a minute." He helped her over a fallen log, and she felt those tingling nerves that appeared whenever they were doing something remotely romantic. Part of her had hoped that feeling would have subsided by now. It only strove to make her nervous and trip over her tongue. But then maybe not feeling the nerves was a worse fate. She wouldn't know. This was all still new to her, and – she'd begun to realise – new to Cullen as well.

His thumb had started to twirl circles over her knuckles, and the tingling travelled further between her thighs. She rubbed her thumb over his hand in response, and Cullen tugged her closer, flashing a lopsided smirk before he watched his footing once more.

The trees parted and they left the thick canopy of leaves to stand by a lake, hidden in the clearing with the moon illuminating its surface. Fireflies bobbed along the water, and every now and then there was the faint plop of a fish breaking through the surface. Gwen gasped, and he grinned. This was more like it. Finally things were going smoothly, and his chest welled with pride that she might like his childhood hideaway.

"What is this place?" She murmured, trailing behind as he walked up the wooden decking, nearing the edge of the water. Cullen gazed across the clearing, it was odd how familiar a place could be, even when he hadn't seen it in twenty odd years. He prepared himself for the lengthy explanation, deepening his voice into that growl that turned her knees to jelly.

"I use to - ." He was interrupted as a blur ran past him, and before he even realised what was happening, Gwen was leaping into the air and down into the water with a splash, drenching him from head to feet.

Nothing ever went to plan.

Cullen lingered by the edge, gapping like a fish as Gwen surfaced. She flicked her wet hair back, laughing, but that died down as she noted his shocked face, and her own smile turned wobbly.

"Didn't we come to bathe?" She asked in a quiet voice. Bordering between confusion and humiliation.

"I er -" his hand fell into his pocket, clutching the coin he'd wanted to give her. Going over the plan. The words he'd practised. The continuing failings of the entire day.

Hang the plan.

"That. And other things." He said finally. Her smile returned, and Gwen swam backwards, watching with a wicked grin as Cullen pawed at his breastplate. He watched her glide through the water, and realised she was only wearing her slip, now see-through and clinging to every luscious curve. He glanced back to her forgotten clothes with a groan. She'd been stripping behind him and he hadn't even noticed.

His own clothing demanded a little more attention, and after two minutes of fumbling he had only managed to drop one gauntlet from the floor. Gwen dived and disappeared from view while Cullen was lifting his breast plate from his torso. She emerged again as it clattered to the ground, chuckling.

"Why would you wear your armour to go swimming?" She asked, a teasing nymph bobbing back under the water, splashing at his boots.

_Why indeed?_ Cullen huffed and pulled his boots off rather than answer. He'd give her the coin later; they could talk later. It would all wait. He nearly ripped his shirt pulling it away, growing more excited as he got one step closer to being in the lake with a nearly naked Gwen. It was when he was digesting himself of his belt that she finally lost her patience; and as he leaned over the walkway – with nothing but his trousers to go - she shot up and dragged him down by his arm.

The water was cold, and hit like a punch. They both went under with a crash. Water went up his nose, blocked his ears, and Cullen struggled to focus his sight as she swam away in a flurry of bubbles. He shot out to grab her but missed, and so kicked with his legs to reach the surface, spluttering for air in the cool night shade.

Gwen was laughing, watching from the middle of the lake as he started to stalk closer.

"That was unfair," he murmured, not sounding terribly offended.

"So was making me wait so long." She grinned, splashing him. Cullen retorted with a larger splash of his own, then slipped one arm around Gwen's waist and pulled her wiggling body closer. He shuddered as her slick chest pressed against him, breasts squashed over the hard planes of his body.

It took a lot of effort to meet her eyes. "Are you referring to just now? Or when we settled camp?" He paused, remembering. "Or when the carriage got stuck?"

They shared a laugh, able to joke over the failings of the day now that they were over with. "I meant just now." She trailed her fingers over his jaw and to the back of his neck, playing with his wet hair. "I didn't mind the other times."

"Really?" He said. She shifted, and he felt himself heating up despite the cold temperature of the water.

"Hmm mm. I was just happy to be with you." Gwen murmured the confession as if it meant very little, as if it didn't make his chest swell with pride, shock, and devotion twice over. Cullen's heart raced, and he crushed his mouth to hers in a passionate kiss. She squeaked – he'd never get tired of that sound – before sinking against him, legs swaying in time with each other to keep afloat.

She groaned and their mouths opened, deepening the kiss and turning it into something more. Teasing conversation was abandoned, and he drove his tongue into her mouth, luring her own out to play. Hands travelled down her waist, over her hips, and across the curve of her ass. He squeezed and held her tight against him. Their legs mingled and the two nearly bobbed under the water before regaining a steady rhythm, chuckling before they kissed again.

Her nipples were already erect from the cold, and Gwen gasped as they rasped across Cullen's bare chest. Her hand gave into temptation and stroked across the muscles of his stomach, grinning when he sucked in a breath and began to squirm.

"My, my. Are you ticklish, Commander?" She breathed into the air, grinning up at the stars as his lips trailed a line across her jaw, before reigning light little pecks down her neck.

"Don't be ridiculous." Cullen grumbled. He squeezed her backside, so Gwen's fingers danced across his ribs. His teeth sank down in response, surely leaving a mark on her neck, and her breath hitched before he let go, running his tongue over the spot he'd made sore.

Gwen knew she'd be punished further if she continued to tickle, and she weighed the cons and pros in her head whilst his lips dragged across her collar bone. "You _are_." She exclaimed, fingers beginning to wiggle across his stomach once more. She was rewarded with his squirming, and Cullen let out a very entertaining yelp that she'd save for later, swimming away as she followed with a manic laugh, hands looming closer.

"I am _not_ ticklish." He grumbled, watching her warily as she began to stalk him through the water.

"Then come back," she teased.

"I would like nothing more than to be pressing up against you," he said. Her cheeks immediately turned red at his confession, and he smirked wickedly before continuing. "But only if your hands start behaving."

His eyes turned lidded and his stare hungry. Her breath caught in her throat and she dipped her cheeks under the water in the hopes it would cool her down. Gwen didn't even notice Cullen swimming closer, too busy squeezing her thighs together as the tingling built, when suddenly one strong arm was wrapping around her waist and tugging her back against his chest. She gasped, and this time it was his turn to do the tickling. She could only squeal while he sought his revenge, tickling her sides until she thought she might burst.

Until he stopped it all with a kiss, and she turned languid against him. This time Gwen made no move to stay afloat, and left the job to Cullen as he held her in his arm. Their heads tilted, and he sucked gently on her bottom lip, nipping with his teeth until he finally let go and kissed her again. She clutched onto his shoulders, slithered her hands down to his arms. Loving the feel of every muscle jumping and clenching beneath her touch. She became braver, and her finger tips started to trail down his stomach, playing with the hem of his trousers, toying with the idea of pulling them off.

"Gwen," he murmured against her mouth, struggling to gain control, struggling to think. How did they even get here? Swimming hadn't been on the agenda at all. He'd wanted to give her the coin. His coin. Yet now he was half naked, and Gwen was coinless, and the cold water no longer seemed to be that much of a problem. His erection pressed against her thigh, and she rubbed gently against it, wanton movement hidden completely under the water.

Her lips tasted like spice and stung his own. From the gloss she wore? Or maybe remnants of her last meal? He wasn't sure, but the thought was slipping away before he could get a grip on it, and then Lavellan was getting a grip of her own, and Cullen was thoroughly distracted by her wandering hands. She trailed her fingers tips across his abdomen, followed the bulge of his erection above his trousers, then started to stroke him gently, almost hesitantly, watching him with a faint smile as she gauged his reaction, heavy lidded with lust.

"Ah – wait…" he stammered, it took all his willpower to pull her hand away and settle it safely over his heart, which raced beneath her palm.

"Why?" She asked – far too innocently – and began to peck little kisses down his neck.

"I wanted to – there was something – " He stifled a groan, giving up momentarily as his own hands gave into temptation. Cullen ran his hands across her waist, purposefully pushing the see-through material of her slip tighter, revealing the dusky shading of her nipples. Immediately his hands covered them, and she gasped as he squeezed, gently but firmly, testing her own reaction. She arched into his hands, and he rolled one nipple between his fingers, relishing in the shudder that earnt him.

But the coin was still in the back of his mind. That, and the fact that his troops were merely a five minute walk away. Free to find the lake if they wished, and the two of them naked in the middle of it. This wasn't right. Not for their first time. Gwen deserved a bed. Complete privacy. Or at least a blanket.

His hands stilled their teasing, falling back to her hips. The guilt must have shown on his face, as she looked up at him with a worried kink in her brow, cupping one stubbly cheek in her hand.

"I want you." She whispered, and it was his undoing.

Cullen hooked an arm under Gwen's knees and scooped her up. She squealed, clutching to his shoulders as he carried her to the edge of the lake, lips never leaving each other as they continued to kiss and groan and get lost in the moment.

He settled her onto the deck, and Gwen sat on the edge with her feet still dangling in the water. Hands were unable to leave him, and she sank her fingertips into his hair, watching wide eyed as Cullen settled between her thighs, a knowing smirk playing his lips. His hands settled over her smalls. "May I?" He asked, ever the gentlemen. She nodded, and lifted her hips as so he could pull them off, the wet material clinging as he dragged the smalls over her legs then tossed them forgotten to the side. "Now this," he said. Fingers pushed her slip to her waist, and – heart racing – she pulled it over her shoulders and off completely.

She felt shy being suddenly bare before him, though it wasn't like her wet underclothes had covered up much before. Cullen drank in the sight of her, dark eyes unable to stop their slow stare down her body. Then he settled his attention between her legs, and began to litter sweet kisses on her inner thighs. "What are you – oh!" Her question was cut short with a strangled gasp, feeling his hot breath against her slit. Gwen gulped, then licked her lips, whimpering already and he'd barely touched her. She wanted to squeeze her knees together to relieve some of the building tension, but Cullen's broad shoulders forced her to spread her legs wantonly, almost embarrassingly, and she could do nothing but watch as he started to lay sweet kisses on her most intimate spot. She wanted to feel him properly, wanted him to delve in, not tease. But instead his tongue trailed down her thigh, then flicked her clit before retreating once more to kiss around her cunt.

"Cullen!" She whined, frustrated now. She was already so very wet, and laid back on the decking with a groan, pushing her hips up to meet his face.

With one hand he gripped her backside, squeezing her ass cheek before lifting her higher. She draped her legs over his shoulders, gasping as the man positioned her how he wanted. His other hand reached up and cupped her breast, squeezing and stroking while his lips began to suck on her clit. Gwen's chest heaved as Cullen raked his tongue across her, wet and slick and unbearably hot. He stoked the fire inside her without mercy, and she found her head pressing back against the fur of his forgotten mantle, eyes staring up to the stars before she squeezed them shut and whimpered.

She reached for his free hand blindly, and Cullen entwined their fingers and squeezed, all the while looking up at her with a wicked narrow of his eyes. A deep chuckle began from his chest, rumbling against her slit and almost becoming her undoing. This time Gwen really did try to squeeze her thighs closed, but he didn't seem to mind as she clenched around his head, tongue delving deeper in response, ever eager to please.

_Yes, yes, yes, yes! _The pleasure built, and she arched her back with a throaty groan, every muscle tensing as a spasm of pleasure burned from her clit and spread like a flame. The stars were in her eyes as wave after wave continued, and her feet splashed at the water before digging her ankles into her back, desperate to hold onto something, anything. Cullen gasped a breath against her, watching her peak with a dark hunger in his eyes.

He wasn't done with her yet.

Gwen heard rather than saw Cullen climb out of the lake, and fluttered her eyes open just in time for his lips to crash against her own. His tongue delved into her mouth, just as it had down with her slit. She shuddered, tasting herself on his lips, oddly enjoying it. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. He was soaking wet and dripping water; cold droplets fell onto her skin as he held himself above her. She shuddered, yet tugged the man down further until their bodies were pressed against each other once more. "You're freezing." She muttered, smiling as they kissed again. Unlike their first few awkward pecks on the ramparts, this felt different. There was a new sense of belonging, as if their lips slotted perfectly; and they took their time, puckering gently as they shared each other's body heat.

It wasn't long before his cock was hard again, and Cullen grinded against her, building up that heat once more. She was already hungry for another release, and pushed his damp trousers down his legs, releasing his erection.

"Gwen," he whispered. No idea what he was saying. Only that her name was the most important thing in the world right then. She was his entire world. For a moment there was nothing, no war, no work, just them.

"Gwen," he said again. This wasn't exactly what he'd had planned for their first time. But he'd finally caught on that nothing ever went to plan, and things were falling into place perfectly without his help. He positioned his arousal against her entrance, bracing himself on one arm. He wanted to watch her face as he entered her, and they locked eye contact before he slid slowly in. Her insides stretched to accommodate him; she soon felt impossibly full, and Cullen wasn't even at the hilt yet.

"Are you alright?" He asked, noting the crease between her brows.

"Don't you dare stop." Was her rather bossy reply.

Cullen needed no further encouragement, and in one swift thrust he embedded himself within her. He gritted his teeth to keep from coming undone right then and there, muscles straining as he felt Gwen clench and tighten around him. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, pressing his lips to her neck. "Perfect."

He began that practised rocking, slowly at first, then turning rougher as the tension built and her slickness allowed it. Her hips rose to match his pace, turning frantic as she sought her second release, so much slower to reach than the first, but more intense because of it.

Soon he was pounding into her with wanton abandonment, urged on by Gwen's delectable noises. His free hand returned to her breast, his touch hard, her ragged breathing urging him on. He found her nipple and flicked, tweaked, until Lavellan was pressing a palm to her whimpering mouth in a poor attempt to keep quiet. All the while his hips grounded her against the wooden walkway, buried within her hot folds, stroking rather than thrusting now, so close. About to burst.

He made a sound, guttural, primitive, and entirely inarticulate. Struggling to keep himself together. But then she was tightening around him, lips open in a silent moan as she reached her peak once more, and he was quickly following her over the edge. Burying his head between her breasts as he spilled himself within her. Hips jerking twice more before coming to a firm still.

They stayed like that for a few moments, catching their breath. When he felt Gwen's muscles turned languid once more, Cullen rolled off and settled down next by her side, staring at the stars that dotted the night sky.

"I forgot," he murmured finally, reaching above their head and fishing through his pockets. "Why I brought you here."

"It wasn't for that?" She said. Ever teasing, smiling gently up at him.

"Not quite," he chuckled. "Here." Cullen pressed the coin into her hand, and Gwen looked at him dubiously until he explained where he'd gotten it, how it was lucky. Why he wanted her to have it. "Please keep it, we don't know what you'll face in the end. This can't hurt."

She leaned up on her elbow and grinned at him, pressing the coin to her naked chest. "You don't have to worry. I can keep myself out of trouble." She promised, feet playfully nudging his own.

He pulled her to him, laying a trail of kisses across her brow. "You're rather good at getting yourself into trouble as well. I've read the reports on your adventures."

Gwen laughed, but didn't disagree, and instead kissed him once more.


End file.
